


[suddenly] you're running fast

by onefootonego (startingXI)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Multi, TW: Blood, TW: Violence, tw: ptsd symptoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 17:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17532932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startingXI/pseuds/onefootonego
Summary: lucy is walking home when it happens.





	[suddenly] you're running fast

lucy is walking home when it happens.

headphones spiral into her ears and the latest episode of this podcast will kill you occupies her mind. her attention wanders away from the hosts' discussion of influenza, some practical part of her ever alert, ever aware of her surroundings. lucy thinks it’s the soldier in her, or perhaps it’s the deo director in her who can never relax fully. as she walks down the street lucy clocks the smokers, drunk but harmless collected outside a bar, she sees a trio of women laughing and entering a mediterranean restaurant on the opposite side of the street. around her people go about their business, talking on phones, or absorbed by their headphones.

the city is alive in the spring evening darkness, the sun still setting much too early, but rising earlier still with every day that comes to pass.

lucy would never normally be walking home, the desert base of operations is much too far for such a commute, except her workday had been cut short and she had taken an early dinner with cat grant. the conversation had been pleasant, friendly even, with cat occasionally trying to woo lucy back into her employment. as tempting as the offer had been, lucy had left cat wanting. her work at the deo, it matters. sure, there’s the practical transference of her lawyer skill set into co-running a black book government agency, but it’s not just about that. it’s about her family.

not her father or sister.

no,

the family she had gained. maggie, then alex. a relationship lucy never could have expected. then kara and winn and j’onn and even a settling of things between herself and james.

these are the people lucy is thinking about as she turns off the main street and into the park.

more specifically, she’s thinking about maggie and alex.

maggie and alex who are waiting for her at home. the thought of finally having a few days off, mornings where she’s not on call for whatever alien, or otherwise, based crisis that hits the city. afternoons where she can go to the gym, work on editing her latest video, or simply do as close to nothing at all as her overactive mind will allow, are practically here. what she’s looking forward to most of all though, is an evening well-spent cuddled on the couch between alex and maggie watching whatever of the latest david attenborough documentaries maggie has found for them.

all lucy wants is a quiet night in comfortable clothes, with her hair let down and a pint of ice cream. her needs, after a week of mayhem, are really quite simple. her feet ache from standing for most of the day, there’s a series of new bruises blooming across her thigh where vas landed a particularly brutal kick. not to mention the fact that lucy just wants a shower.

she wants a shower in her own home, with her stupidly soft towels.

lucy’s phone vibrates and she fishes it out of her pocket to see a text message from maggie lighting up the screen

**maggie to lucy [20:13:46 pm]** – if you don’t get back soon alex and i are going to have eaten all your ice cream.

the message is followed by a picture

**maggie to lucy [20:14:02 pm]** – sadthirdspoonsolonely.jpg

the image of a single spoon, resting on the granite countertop of the kitchen island is enough to make lucy smile and laugh to herself. she can picture maggie and alex sitting on the stools, taking turns to scoop from the pint of chocolate vegan ice cream they all favour. she can picture them waiting for her to –

it happens all at once.

lucy’s phone is snatched out of her hand in a fluid, confident motion. at the same time, her backpack is yanked hard. there’s a ripple of pain across her shoulders as the second attacker can’t quite rip the pack off her back. with the sudden cut in her headphones, lucy’s phone screen is still illuminated, giving her a moment to track the first attacker in the dark. it’s an advantage that will soon be lost for all lucy can see is figured, dressed in black, clothes perfectly suited to the shadows of the park.

facing off against the two, three, four,

she thinks,

shadows,

lucy is not afraid.

or rather, she doesn’t have room in her brain to be afraid. not when she’s scanning the situation, clocking a fifth attacker and assessing her options.

run.

the most practical option is gone. there are too many of them, and anyway, she’s in the depths of the park. the safety of the well-lit streets may as well be as far away as the moon.

fight back.

plausible, lucy doesn’t know what they want. a distant part of her shudders at the question. yet even with two decades of krav maga training behind her, she’s not sure taking down five potentially armed attackers is a wise move.

scream.

her voice won’t work, she can barely make a sound. the realisation that she is indeed afraid startles lucy. perhaps it’s the fact that she’s in the dark, perhaps it’s the fact that there are so many of them. perhaps it’s the fact that they’re so obviously not military that the normal rules of engagement are thrown out the window. they could do anything to her if they wanted.

fuck.

the cascade of thoughts and rush of emotions delay lucy’s reactions.

they delay her long enough for one of the attackers to get behind her and throw an arm around lucy’s waist and bring a cold, sharp blade to her throat.

the world around her stills.

distantly lucy can clock the rest of the city moving on around them, without them. yet in this immediate space,

she can hear nothing but the rushing of her own subdued fear as it is overwhelmed by something far more primal, an instinct to survive. a ruthless instinct that swells up, freed from its prison of civilian life.

lucy blinks and she’s back in iraq with her m16 and the unbearable, inescapable dry heat suffocating her.

she blinks and she’s back in the park.

five assailants.

one with his hand on her ass, feeling, groping.

“don’t you know it’s not safe to be out on your own after dark?” the attacker behind her taunts.

lucy blinks and she’s back in mahmudiyah, there’s the glow of a million, million stars above them on a moonless, clear night. there’s the distant echoing crack of gunfire being volleyed back and forth. sure, she’s a lawyer, but she’s a soldier first.

lucy blinks and she’s back in the park, the contents of her bag are being strewn across the grass. some part of lucy is glad that she didn’t bring any files home. she’s glad that her pack is filled with leftover remains of lunch and her water bottle and a list of places she and maggie and alex were talking about going to for a getaway this summer.

all benign. all luring her attackers into a false sense of security.

lucy waits, her pulse racing, the searing pain of the knife pressing too hard into her neck grounding her to the moment. she knows she has one chance to time this right or risk,

well,

the fury of her attackers, she assumes.

“where’s your wallet?” one of the attackers demands, and from his voice alone, he sounds young and unafraid.

good.

“i’ll get it for you.” lucy says, surprised at how collected she sounds, despite the fact that she knows her wallet is sitting on her desk in the deo.

slowly, oh so slowly she raises her hands, spreading her fingers so show she’s not a threat.

too little too late, she proves that she is.

lucy’s moment comes all at once. she grabs the wrist holding the knife and wrenches it, twisting it down and away from her in the same motion as she slams her booted left heel into the persons shin. she hears a satisfying crack and she sees the knife falling to the ground. scooping it from the dirt, lucy whips around at her attackers and sees one bull rushing her.

knife in one hand she steps sideways, letting the idiots own momentum propel him face first into a tree.

there is no time for gloating as two more rush her. one moves with a limp and lucy can only assume he’s the one who she first attacked. she can fend off one with a punch to the face, however, there are too many and lucy knows she’s going to have to use the knife in her hand.

so she does.

she slashes the blade with precision, slicing at the arm of one of her attackers. she can hear his howl of pain and it satiates some part of her. yet as brave as it was,

it was also stupid.

lucy blinks and she's getting hauled away from a burning truck. there's the ear shattering explosions of gunfire around her and, she blinks again, she's back in the park. she's on the ground. 

two have hauled their injured friend away from where lucy is laid out on the ground, receiving kick after kick. even in this position, she’s not helpless. she catches one of their legs and turns onto her side, yanking him to the ground. he falls with a heavy thump and -

“fuck dude” one of them shouts “let’s get out of here.”

“it’s not worth it.” another echoes, and all of a sudden,

the attention is not on lucy.

the attention is on dragging their friend away from her.

it is suddenly deafeningly quiet and lucy lays out in the damp grass. her eyes are closed and she breathes in soft, pained pants. with one hand she feels at her neck, feeling the slick of blood there. it’s doesn’t feel catastrophic but,

lucy blinks and she’s back in mahmudiyah, laid out in the sand. she’s looking down at her hand, seeing it covered in her own blood and understanding that the explosion of pain she feels in her stomach is not a good thing. she’s gasping for air as gunfire and explosions echo around her.

she’s trying not to scream but the pain is indescribable and –

lucy blinks and she’s back in the grass, in the park, in national city.

she can’t stay here.

no.

*

alex is in the shower and maggie is sprawled on the couch when she hears the fumbling insertion of a key into the front door. sitting up, she can’t help but be excited because this is no doubt lucy. lucy who took her sweet time getting home from dinner with cat grant, maggie will make sure she points out. at the present, all teasing will wait because it’s been two days since maggie and lucy saw each other in a non-professional capacity and frankly, it’s exhausting.

when the door opens and lucy steps inside maggie is already on her feet. maggie is already facing the door so the first thing she sees as lucy steps inside is blood. lucy’s neck is covered in blood. not to mention her clothes are muddy and covered in loose grass. there’s a limp to the way lucy is walking and one wrist is cradled close to her chest.

in lucy's head there's an explosion of gunfire, there's yelling and shouting of commands and there's too much pain. she is back in iraq, in the dirt, back to the place that nearly killed her. yet through it, through the attack

there's maggie's voice. 

“lucy,” maggie gasps “luce, what –“ she starts, but lucy holds up a hand.

she holds up three fingers.

maggie knows what the signal means. she takes a steadying breath and ignores the questions racing around in her brain and instead she stays her distance, speaking to lucy across the room

“lucy,” she says gently, firmly “lucy i need you to look around and tell me five things in this apartment that are black.”

lucy’s breathing is coming in ragged, pained pants. she’s leaning with one hand on the kitchen island, mere inches away from the spoon maggie and alex had left out for her.

“five things.” maggie repeats.

lucy nods, she takes a breath and forces her eyes open “the skillet.” is the first thing lucy says, eyes focusing on the stovetop “the spatula.” she adds.

“good.” maggie coaxes “keep going.”

lucy’s gaze drifts to the kitchen table and “alex’s leather jacket.” she forces out, closing her eyes and taking a ragged inhalation.

maggie watches, knowing that all she wants to do is pull lucy into her arms, but also knowing that right now, that is not what lucy needs.

“two more.” maggie presses “two more for me.”

“the pillows on the couch.” lucy grits out “and the tv remote.”

“good.” maggie praises “so good. you need to keep going though. four things we bought from target last weekend.”

lucy’s grip is still white-knuckled on the countertop, but her breathing has started to slow and her gaze is less frenetic “the mixing bowls in the sink.” she says at the same moment that maggie hears the bathroom door open and alex steps out.

“did i hear –“ alex starts, rounding the corner and freezing.

maggie can only imagine what a scene this must make. there’s lucy standing, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter, with blood drying down her neck and mud covering her work clothes. then there’s maggie standing frozen in place, holding three fingers up to alex, so she too is aware of what’s happening. beyond that, a silent conversation is held between maggie and alex, a mouthed conversation

“ _what happened_?” alex mouths and maggie shrugs

“ _she just got in_.”

alex nods her understanding as lucy says

“the new placemats on the table and, and the multi-coloured lights in the glass jar.” there are tears in her eyes and it takes everything inside maggie not to move closer and instead push through with this exercise.

“one more.” she says “one more thing.”

lucy swallows hard, she feels shaky and unsteady on her feet  “the mugs. in the cupboard.” she pauses and then, focusing on the granite underneath her hand “fuck.” she mumbles, eyes screwed shut again and a hand coming up to wipe stray tears from her eyes.

“can you look at me luce,” maggie asks and it takes long seconds for lucy to comply, meeting maggie’s soft gaze “can you tell me three things you did today?”

lucy nods, “had a meeting with pam from hr.” she starts “interviewed some possible transfers to the desert base and,” she swallows hard “and i had dinner with cat.”

“good.” maggie praises “you’re safe lucy.” she promises “can you tell me who’s in the room?”

lucy nods again “you, and alex.” her gaze flickers to alex, who’s standing still, watching, waiting.

“and can you tell me where you are?”

“home.” lucy exhales “i’m at home.” she pauses for a shaky breath and then “i – can you, i need – “ a full sentence escapes her, yet maggie and alex understand what she needs immediately.

it’s maggie who moves first, crossing the space slowly but directly. she touches lucy’s hand first and only after lucy leans into the contact does she wrap her arms around lucy fully. it calms the racing of maggie’s heart to have lucy in her arms like this. to feel that lucy is solid and safe and here.

“you’re safe” maggie promises “you’re at home. alex and i are here.”

lucy curls against maggie feeling exhausted all at once. maggie is dressed down in boxers and a t-shirt, so it’s easy for lucy to press her hand against maggie’s chest and feel the thrumming of her heart, feel her warmth. it’s easy for lucy to rest her head against maggie’s collarbone and close her eyes, breathing in as deeply as she can.

somewhere behind them both, alex is moving from the bedroom with the hefty first-aid kit in her hands. she moves slowly with it, so as to not startle lucy, setting it down on the kitchen table. it’s only after it’s open and waiting that alex moves across the space to join them both.

lucy feels her stop short and she knows alex will wait, cautious of overwhelming lucy’s momentarily fragile senses. except right now all lucy wants is to be overwhelmed by safety and comfort and home, so she reaches for alex and feels alex’s hand take hers. she feels and hears soft movement until alex’s warmth is pressed against her side.

“we’ve got you.” alex promises, her hand resting delicately on lucy’s waist.

lucy nods, revelling in the moment before saying quietly “i got mugged.”

maggie tenses, alex too, and lucy forces herself to continue “in the park. i should have gone around. i – “

“you have every right to go through that park.” alex says quickly “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

lucy shakes her head “i-“ she says “it was stupid. i shouldn’t have gone that way.”

“lucy,” maggie starts “lucy how many times have you walked home through that park?”

“more than i can count.” lucy replies, still leaning heavily into maggie’s solid form.

“exactly.” maggie says “you did nothing wrong.”

lucy shakes her head, unable to voice the thoughts racing around, winding her up. her heart is still racing, her mind still half a world away in the sand and the sun of years ago. her whole body aches, the adrenaline that no doubt kept her alive is fading and all lucy is left with is the wounds.

“you have a cut on your neck,” alex says quietly “can i clean it?”

there’s a moments hesitation before lucy nods before she allows herself to be led across the space and sat down gently in a kitchen chair. to sit feels so good and lucy all but collapses into the chair. her elbow bangs onto the tabletop and she winces, jarred by the sound and the sensation.

in front of her, alex is rifling through the first aid kit. lucy watches, soaking in the sight of alex. right now she’s all protective energy, moving with deliberate actions. yet for as many times as lucy has seen alex like this in the field, tending to the injuries of her agents there is a softness of alex’s eyes reserved solely for maggie and lucy.

maggie is perched on the edge of the couch, one hand tangles lightly with lucy’s, her thumb moving in concentric circles along the back of lucy’s palm “do you want to talk about what happened?” maggie asks, making sure not to use her work voice, making sure not to place lucy in a position where she feels like any more of a victim.

lucy considers as alex explains

“i’m going to use this damp gauze to clean the blood away.” she says “i’ll start away from the cut and then move closer. i don’t want to agitate any of the clots. so i’ll be as gentle as i can.”

lucy nods, turning to look in maggie’s direction and tilting her head to expose her neck more fully. there’s a beat of silence where the cool gauze runs along lucy’s neck and she shivers, and then she speaks

“i was in the park.” she says “someone grabbed my phone from my hand. another tried to pull off my backpack but they couldn’t do it.” she talks clinically, distancing herself from the event “one got behind me with a knife. he,” lucy can see maggie’s eyes darken, and lucy forces herself to continue “they wanted my purse.”

alex is cleaning away the blood with soft strokes, revealing a wound that is not nearly as bad as the amount of blood implied. she works silently as lucy tells the story, able to read the tension in lucy’s shoulders, down her spine and curling into her feet.

“i fought back. it, i ended up on the ground but they, they decided i wasn’t worth the trouble.”

applying neosporin, alex uses a small bandage to cover the slice to lucy’s neck.

lucy lets out a shuddering exhale and leans forward, pressing her forehead against alex’s stomach. alex’s hands come to lucy’s back, stroking softly with her fingertips “lucy,” she says “you can let it out.” alex murmurs, her words small in the magnitude of the night “maggie and i, we won’t judge you. we just want you safe. we want you to be able to talk to us.”

lucy’s not sure how alex knows she hasn’t told the whole story, but here she is with alex holding her close and maggie holding her hand. surrounded by so much love and so much caring and so much protective anger, lucy finds the words practically crawling up her throat.

“it was my fault.” she says, her voice a far cry from the hard-edged, clinical assessment of minutes before “it,” her voice wavers “it wasn’t the park. it was,” she closes her eyes, taking herself back to the moment, the moment she panicked, the moment she –

“i froze.” lucy says “they grabbed my phone and i, i just froze.”

alex’s fingers are carding through lucy’s hair as lucy speaks more or less to alex’s feet.

“i’m a trained soldier, i, they were some punks.” she shakes her head, or tries, but alex’s gentle grip calms her.

alex’s hands come to lucy’s jaw, stroking softly as alex kneels down in front of lucy. her eyes are wide and sincere “you were attacked,” alex says slowly “on your way home from work. you were not on patrol, you were not in a situation where you were expecting to be attacked. you were walking home a way you’ve done it before.” her words are reassurance, her hands are soft.

“you did nothing wrong.” maggie chimes in, slipping down with grace off the back of the couch to kneel next to lucy as well “you survived. you made it home. you were able to tell alex and i that you were having a flashback.” maggie squeezes lucy’s hand gently “you did everything you were supposed to.”

the words are so tender they hurt, tugging something unstuck in lucy’s chest until she’s gasping on a sob. she curls forward, her elbows coming to rest on her thighs, her head hanging between her knees. the impact of the nights events hitting her fully,

that she could have _died_.

that she could have suffered far worse.

lucy feels soft hands on her back, on her arm. she hears gentle words floating in the air and she realises she doesn’t need to understand them to be grounded by their presence. she simply keens into alex, into maggie and lets them hold her, lets them keep her close.

there is no shame in crying,

maggie and alex taught her that.

there is no shame in letting yourself feel,

they all taught each other that.

when lucy feels all cried out, when she still feels fragile and exhausted, alex asks if lucy is in pain anywhere else. it is a question lucy desperately wants to say no to, except she knows better than to lie. instead, she nods, she mumbles “my ribs, they kicked me, when i was on the ground.”

alex practically vibrates with contained rage as she slowly lifts the hem of lucy’s shirt.

to conduct this examination it’s easiest for lucy stand, to lean into maggie’s arms and let alex do all the work. lucy shivers against the cool air of the apartment against her bare skin. she feels alexs hand skating down her ribs, pressing and asking

“does this hurt?” and “can you take a deep breath in for me?”

lucy does as asked, wincing when she breathes too deep.

alex continues pressing and feeling and checking, until finally, she steps back, tugging the hem of lucy’s shirt down “nothing broken.” she says “just bruised.”

lucy considers this good news.

“can we go to bed?” she asks, oh so aware that in the morning she will have to decide what to do in terms of filing a police report.

“of course.” maggie nods, a sentiment echoed by alex.

*

bed is soft and warm and dimly lit.

a soft lamp sits in the corner, covering the room in a soothing dim glow. lucy finds herself in the middle of alex and maggie. she finds herself being held gently.

she’s shaken from the nights events, she’s exhausted too. yet in this moment, she is safe and secure and while fear of the night ahead twists in lucy’s stomach, she closes her eyes and faces it head-on, with maggie and alex by her side.

**Author's Note:**

> don't expect this rate of new content to last, i'm temporarily on placement that is 0900-1700 and i don't know what to do with myself. 
> 
> the 5-4-3-2-1 method used by lucy and maggie is an actual way of dealing with panic attacks or any other episodes wherein you need assistance grounding yourself.


End file.
